The Medic
by Celestia Craven
Summary: Despite the fun and the martial arts and the pizza, being a teenage mutant ninja turtle is dangerous work. Additionally, as an occupational hazard, no mutant turtle can ever go to the hospital. Donatello tries the best he can, but medicine is difficult to practice in the sewers of good old NYC. Mikey-centric.
1. The Introduction

**Notes** : So I was working on a project called _The Medic_ for April 2016's Camp NaNoWriMo. I didn't finish it in time (not even close), but I did get a fair way into it. Now's all's left is to fill in the blanks and polish. I was trying to teach myself how to complete larger projects, in part because I kept leaving things unfinished here. Which seems needlessly cruel. This will be updated regularly every two weeks, so please look forward to it!

* * *

The Introduction

* * *

"Ha!"

Four short turtles in a neat row cried out as they lifted a fist toward an unseen enemy.

"Yah!"

They turned as one, drawing one hand back as they pushed forward the other.

"Ha! . . . Woa-woah!"

Three turtles fell over themselves in confusion, flailing at the feet of their Master. The fourth completed a tricky maneuver that ended with one leg extended almost straight upwards.

"Enough!" Master Splinter commanded.

The four turtles fell into place, standing at attention.

"Leonardo, Donatello, Raphael," Splinter said with a raised eyebrow. "You have been working at these forms for weeks now. If you have such difficulty with them, I suggest spending some of your tv time in the dojo."

A turtle with a blue bandanna blushed in shame, turning his eyes downwards.

"Michelangelo," Splinter continued, darting dark eyes down at his youngest son.

The remaining turtle chirped in response. "Yes, sensei?" He kept a wide grin off of his face with visible effort, sliding a sly look toward his chastised brothers on either side.

Master Splinter stood aside, waving one hand at the wall, where their practice weapons were kept. "Choose your weapon."

All mischievousness fell from Mikey's face. "Wait —" he protested, eyes wider than their salvaged dinner plates, "Do you really mean — I can have my own _weapon_?"

"I have found you fully capable of the basic precepts of ninjutsu," Splinter responded gravely. "Though you are not the most mature of your brothers, you are the first to approach this point in your training. Choose wisely."

Mikey could barely contain himself, darting toward the nunchucks that he favored so much during their armed sparring sessions. He removed them from their place on the wall, giving them a spin.

The entire experience seemed different, now that these were _his_ weapons. He glanced at his brothers, who were staring at him with a combination of brotherly pride and personal disappointment.

"Dismissed," Splinter proclaimed, waving a hand as he settled down beneath the tree for his afternoon meditation.

Mikey shuffled toward the door, one eye on his sensei and father. He paused at the opening behind his brothers, settling one foot in the living room and turning back toward the dojo.

He wasn't stopped. He really was allowed to bring these everywhere now, instead of being limited to their father's supervision in the dojo.

He skipped off, nearly flying with the force of his joy.

—

"Please!"

A few miles away down the sewer pipes, a man slid down a brick wall, curling in agony. He rolled over, the Foot emblem on the back of his black uniform exposed to the dotted light fixtures in the tunnel.

"Stop it!" he sobbed. "End it!"

There was no audible response, but he froze as if there had been. He slowly reached a trembling hand to the _wakizashi_ that lay on the ground nearby. He unsheathed the blade and stared at it as if entranced, nodding his head.

"Anything," he answered. He held it before him as he strode further into the shadows of the tunnels, muttering under his breath. "Anything, anything."

In the reflection of the blade there was an image — most likely a trick of the thin lighting. It was a flash that seemed to be the face of a young woman of Asian heritage, plain and unremarkable but for the self-satisfied twist of her lips.

* * *

 _Wakizashi_ — a type of Japanese sword wielded by the samurai class, typically used as the companion sword of the katana

* * *

 **Next** : The Decline on July 29th


	2. The Decline

**Notes** : It might be interesting for my readers to know how long I'm planning this to be and when I'll be finished. This story is made of an introduction, nine parts (in current form), and ending. Each full part is 6,000+ words, putting the final count at 54,000+ words and finished on December 2nd. On a random note, I'm pretty sure this is only here because of the Monstercat podcasts and the jazz I was listening to. I lost motivation near the end, but music got me through. If there are any glaring mistakes, I'm sorry. I edited this pretty exhaustively, but I could have missed something.

* * *

The Decline

* * *

Mikey lay flat on his shell, staring up at the leafy ceiling. He dazedly observed a hint of sunlight from the upper world twine around the branches of their dojo's tree.

Donnie's fuzzy silhouette stood above him, gripping his _bō_ staff in disbelief where the wooden base was firmly, automatically, pressed against Mikey's wind pipe. The scientist's purple-framed eyes were wide with surprise, though his face was schooled.

Master Splinter's voice awakened them from their shock. "Again!" he commanded.

Donnie removed his staff from Mikey and stepped back slowly, pleased realization dawning. His chest puffed out subtly as he realized that he — the least strong in ninjutsu's physical arts — had managed to defeat Mikey.

Mikey rolled upright, getting his feet underneath him in uncharacteristic silence. From the corner of his vision he could see Leo and Raph from their place at the edge of the mats as they observed the spar. He could feel the weight of Master Splinter's heavy gaze on his back for a moment as he recovered his twin nunchucks from where they had fallen to the side in a surreal turn of events. He stood opposite Donnie, face disturbingly blank.

"Again," reminded Master Splinter.

Donnie, filled with courage from his win against Mikey, charged forward with something that could almost be called recklessness. He leaned toward the right as if to give a strike, but then thrust his staff forward from the other direction. Mikey leapt over the strike, never remaining in one place as he circled around his older brother. The youngest turtle darted erratically around the room, adding in tricky footwork and pointless acrobatics to throw his brother off rhythm. He dipped forward with his nunchucks to test the waters, Donnie blocking the strikes with his staff with apparent ease.

Despite his quirky start, Mikey slowly fell into a pattern, establishing a simpler heartbeat of their weapons connecting. Thud. Thud. Thud. Donnie began to take advantage of the pattern, bō staff increasingly bold. One such strike seemed to drop Mikey back onto the mat, defenseless. Donnie leapt forward, hurrying to press his bō staff into position for a second win.

However, after having established a comfortable rhythm of strike-block-strike-evade, Mikey was prepared. He lifted a nunchuck that he had just before seemed to have lost his grip on, thrusting it upwards to entwine the staff with its chain. He twisted his nunchuck to the side, jerking the staff out of his brother's hands. His opponent's weapon separated from owner, Mikey kicked Donnie's feet out from under him. Donnie realized his complacency too late.

Donnie fell hard, staff clattering against the mat. To his credit, the moment he began to fall he prepared to recover. He was already halfway up, foot extended to flip his staff into the air and back into reach. Donnie almost managed the maneuver, but wasn't quite fast enough. In a split second, Miley was behind him, holding both handles of his nunchuck as he spread the chain across his brother's neck. After a moment of studying his position, Donnie visibly deflated.

"I concede," Donnie intoned disappointedly.

Master Splinter studied his sons as he leaned over his staff. "I believe that is enough for today," he said, flicking his tail. "Leonardo, would you like to join me for tea and additional lessons?" he offered.

"Of course, sensei," Leo was quick to accept. He stood from his kneeling position, already walking toward the kitchen to fetch the kettle.

Mikey and Donnie separated, Donnie reaching down to recover his staff and spin it smartly into its holster on his back.

"Geez, Mikey," Raph commented, rising toward the practice dummy to get a bit more practice in. "Now even Donnie is kicking your shell! You're fallin' behind."

Donnie frowned, insulted at the implications. He turned in place to affix his brother with a disapproving look. "Or, perhaps, Raphael, it is simply that I am steadily improving."

"No way, brainiac," Raph snorted. "Mikey has always been better than you in spars. You think too much."

Both of them went silent as Mikey suddenly darted forward, stomping out of the dojo and into the sewers with an uncommonly tense frame.

"What was that about?" Raph wondered, dumbfounded.

"I . . . don't know," Donnie admitted. "Maybe our conversation hit a nerve?" he ventured.

—

Mikey knew that Master Splinter had expected better. He had seen it in the droop in his father's whiskers, in the dull shine of his eyes.

Of all his brothers, Mikey was well aware that he held the most natural promise as a ninja warrior. Leo was born to be a leader, but his charisma and discipline would have been suited to many occupations. Donnie was born to be a scientist, but he didn't have the instinct for battle, though he trained himself in its ways. Raphael was a born protector and guardian, and would have been suited to any fighting discipline.

Mikey was born for _ninjutsu_. Other than playing video games, eating pizza, and collecting comic books, that was really all that Mikey was good at. And he was cool with that.

Of them all, he was the first to attain perfection in a new kata. He was the first to receive a weapon of choice.

That was his purpose on the team. Though he often goofed off and acted out in ways that drove his family to distraction, and that was his job too, he could be trusted to handle the physical demands of combat with boundless energy.

And he was starting to slip. He had long ago lost to Leo. That only made sense. Leo was the leader. Likewise, losing to Raph was inevitable. His brother's drive to become stronger was a thing of enviable predictability. But Donnie wasn't built for fighting — not like Mikey.

The whole thing was like a splash of freezing water in Mikey's face. He'd known that his slacking was starting to have an effect on his ranking among his brothers, but to think that it had already gone so far in the blink of an eye.

What if Leo started to beat him in every single spar? What if Raph began to consider him too weak to practice with? What if Mikey really _did_ fall behind Donnie? Donnie, who spent most of his waking hours not honing his body but instead jamming his head full of facts.

And losing a spar against Donnie their mild-mannered scientist was one thing. Slipping above ground, however. That could not be allowed to happen.

Mikey was a goof, but he wasn't stupid. The team's hard-won balance had to be maintained, and Mikey was beginning to become a weak spot.

Maybe a few extra exercises in the dojo until he caught up. That would fix everything, right?

Yeah. Yeah, of course it would.

Having mentally talked himself out of his flustered state, Mikey finally stopped his sewer run. Even twenty minutes in, he was barely breathing deeper. Their constant excursions above ground the past year had granted him that, at least.

Geez! What was he thinking? He was a ninja turtle. How cool was that? He was a nunchuck whirling machine of kick butt.

Mikey scoffed at his own overreaction. How had he let his supreme self confidence be shaken by what was, by all accounts, a hard-won but ultimately trivial victory on the part of his brother? Instead of moaning and groaning, he should totally be congratulating his older bro.

And if Donnie found a whoopie cushion on his lab's swivel chair, well. That was only fair.

At the same time, Mikey really could use some extra training for a few weeks. With that in mind, he ran for another twenty minutes.

—

By the time he returned to the lair, just before dinner, Mikey was feeling much more balanced. He had overreacted, as he often did. His brothers would always need him. Instead of feeling upset at his loss, he should be happy that Donnie was getting stronger. He was less likely to be hurt. And wasn't that the important part?

He returned to his room and swiped a towel, wiping sweat off of his face. His run had tired him out, mental equilibrium won at the cost of physical exhaustion. He threw himself onto his crumpled bedsheets, shoving a hand at the gap between wall and headboard as he recovered the sixth issue of Super Mecha Robot Force Five.

"Dinner!" Raph called out before Mikey could crack his comic open.

Mikey peeked out of his room, as amused as always at the sight of Raph setting the table in their frilly apron. He was thankful to note that Raph had chosen to have Casey pick up some pizza on the way home. Pizza: the food of the gods. Or at least, Mikey reflected, the food of growing ninjas.

As Mikey sat down with his brothers, knocking Leo off of his chair in revenge for a pointed comment about rooms and cleaning them, Mikey's loss was all but forgotten.

And if Master Splinter privately looked relieved at the easy way Michelangelo interacted with Donatello that evening, that was his right, Mikey supposed.

—

Mikey whooped in joy as he landed on one of New York City's many flat rooftops. He sprinted forward, lifting his arms in the air as he vaulted into the next roof.

"Hey, keep it down," Leo chided from beside him, but his own gleeful expression betrayed how much he was enjoying the patrol.

"Yeah, Mikey," Raph snarked. "I think the people in Brazil are trying to sleep right now."

Donnie frowned. "Take it easy, guys. We've got some Foot activity." He stopped abruptly at the edge of the roof and peered down into the alley below.

To anyone else, the alley appeared peaceful. To the turtles, who could see no less than five Foot Bots hanging from the fire escape, there was a clear threat. They watched as one of the bots withdrew a small laser saw and cut a flawless circle into a window before leveraging it open.

"How much do you want to bet that this isn't a normal robbery?" Leo muttered rhetorically.

"What could they want in an apartment building?" Donnie pondered in turn.

Raph snorted. "What does it matter. Let's go bust some heads — then we can ask them!" He pounded his fists together in anticipation.

Mikey grinned as he dropped down with his brothers, withdrawing his nunchucks. With a flick of his wrists, they sailed around his body in controlled arcs as he fell onto the fire escape and drew a Foot Bot away from its comrades.

The danger of the bots wasn't in their individual capabilities. It lay, instead, on their ability to communicate large amounts of information in their chittering language. One bot was easy, but each subsequent bot increased their abilities exponentially.

Mikey danced around the bot's inhumanly strong attacks, determined not to be caught off guard. He jumped onto a dumpster, watching as the bot followed him obediently. It was only a matter of moments to overwhelm it.

Mikey couldn't even remember why they'd had trouble with them in the first place. The bots weren't truly learning computers, Donnie had explained to them. Many concepts lay outside of their comprehension, such as emotions and long-term strategy.

Mikey distracted it with a series of strikes against its shell, forcing it to raise its arms to protect its core processor. As it unintentionally covered its own optical sensors, Mikey reached over and dented the back of its metal skull, making it so that the latch that protected its inner workings disconnected from the panel. He tore the panel off and dug his fingers inside to tear out the pink wires.

The Bot froze, drooping for a moment. Then it fell to the ground like a rag doll.

"Piece'a cake," Mikey grinned, prodding it with his foot as he turned to help his brothers finish up the other four.

"Mikey! Look out!" Leo called, raising a hand in warning as his eyes grew wide with horror.

Mikey paused, forehead furrowing. There was one bot fighting Donnie, and one bot fighting Leo, and two ganging up on Raph. And then there was his bot, harmless on the ground. All of them accounted for.

Mikey gasped as he felt cool metal against his throat, a robot's hand holding the blade steady as it pinned the turtle against its chest. At this, the bot he thought he'd taken down chittered, and the other bots began to respond. Mikey breathed lightly, watching from the corner of his eye as the bots began to converge on him.

"Guys," Mikey called out in a wavering voice, trying not to sound as scared as we was. "Help!"

The Foot Bots must have been upgraded. Physically, they were able to function without the wires he'd pulled out. Mentally, they had been able to have one of their number hang back to catch him off guard. Six bots.

Mikey struggled to move his arms and legs, but the pressure of the bot's freezing cold weapon at his throat deepened in warning.

"Don't . . . move," Leo warned, turning to give the bot his full attention.

"Don't worry, Mikey," Donnie soothed. He slowly edged forward, keeping a wary eye on the bots who continued to retreat toward Mikey. He didn't want to spook the bots into taking any actions with permanent consequences.

"We're gonna get you out of there safe," Raph added, a dark fury in his eyes. "Nobody messes with my younger brother and gets away with it. Not 'cept me."

Leo led them, signaling them even as his blades screeched against each other. Without any other warning, Donnie twisted the end of his bō staff to transform it into the more lethal _naginata_. He charged forward, avoiding the other Bots as he ran toward the one holding Mikey immobile. Raph followed quickly, tearing out the mechanical guts of every Bot in his way.

By the time the brothers were finished with this batch of Foot Bots, there wasn't a single component wired to another. Except, of course, for the most important components that Donnie had recovered. Now the CPUs were held in the chest area, apparently. Donnie had been quick to outline where to strike for the next time. Mikey prodded one totaled robot with his foot in awe.

"So, on to the important stuff," Mikey said.

Leo frowned and sheathed his katana. "That's right," he agreed.

"What are we gonna name 'em?" Mikey continued.

"That . . . wasn't actually where I was going," Leo admitted. "I was actually going to focus on your lack of situational awareness."

"Like, I mean," Mikey continued, ignoring the lecture his little brother radar could sense from a mile away. "We can't just call 'em Foot Bots. They're way smarter than the normal ones."

"Their processing power has been increased by at least another forty percent and their reflexes are a bit better," Donnie observed as he shifted through the guts of another 'bot. "They must have used data collected from fighting us to improve on the original design!"

"So we should call them Foot 2.0! Simple, sweet, rolls off the tongue," Mikey said with a decisive nod.

"Mikey," Leo started, only to be interrupted by his red-masked brother.

"MIKEY!" Raph roared, charging forward and picking his younger brother up by his belt. "What the shell were you thinking?! You nearly got yourself killed!"

"But I didn't," Mikey wheedled, raising his hands in surrender. "I'm fine — not even a scratch. Overreacting much, Raphy?"

"I don't know about that," Leo muttered.

"C'mon, Donnie," Mikey whined. "You're siding with me, right?"

Donnie huffed as he dropped the inner workings of the 'bot onto the alleyway gravel. "I'm with Leo and Raph on this one."

"No way!"

"Look, let's just — let's just get back to the lair," Leo sighed. "I think we've had enough nightmare fuel for one patrol."

"But —"

"Save it until we're home," Leo said shortly.

—

"Wait. Fellas," Mikey began. "So I made one mistake. Big deal. You guys have had way closer calls."

"The big deal is — as I've already said — that you nearly got yourself killed!" Raph interrupted, furious.

"Listen, Mikey. We can't afford mistakes — too much is at stake," Leo chided as he leapt over the dividers at the entrance of the lair. "We have to be our best every single time we go on patrol. We can't risking losing anyone."

"It could have happened to any one of us," Mikey protested.

Master Splinter exited the dojo, curiosity and worry twisting his wise features. "What is this I hear about someone nearly getting killed?" he prodded gently.

"The Foot Bots —"

"— Foot 2.0! —" Mikey interjected cheerfully.

"— received an upgrade," Donnie explained, looking down at his staff as he avoided eye contact. "They nearly got Mikey."

"You're exaggerating," Mikey complained, dropping into the couch as he stretched his hands behind his head. "I had everything under control."

" _Control_? Hah!" Raph spat, crossing his arms as he marched away to lean against the wall.

"Michaelangelo," Master Spinter drew out softly, peering at his youngest son from under his bushy eyebrows. "Answer me honestly. How close have you come to death tonight?"

Mikey swallowed, confidence fading away in the face of his father's sincere concern. "On a scale of one to ten? . . . Um, maybe an eight point five?" he ventured.

"A Foot Bot had a blade against his neck for nearly two minutes. It could have slit his throat easily," Leo interjected, his grip on his sheathed swords white-knuckled as he hissed a breath through his teeth. "Thankfully they seemed to be under orders to capture, not kill. For once."

Master Splinter closed his eyes and let loose a deep sigh. He leaned on his staff, looking for once as wearied as his years. "Your brothers," he said, sweeping a hand over the gathered group, "are rightly worried for you, Michaelangelo. You must respect that you mean a great deal to them — to me."

"Yes, sensei," Mikey answered obediently, trying to look a bit more humble.

"Meanwhile . . . Leonardo, Raphael, Donatello, you are still in shock," Master Splinter chastised gently. "It is not often that an enemy gets so close to killing one of our own. It wears on our souls especially in this case, as it is the first time that Michaelangelo has been singled out on this manner. Instead of taking it out on your brother, it would be far better to have a relaxing cup of tea and take a moment to breathe and offer thanks now that the danger has passed us."

"But Mikey — " Leo protested.

"— is safe and unharmed," Splinter interrupted, not quite serenely. He closed his eyes for a moment, before placing a hand on Leo's shoulder. "It is understandable that you experience a moment of unreasonable fear in regards to your brother, but it must only be a moment."

Master Splinter took a fortifying breath, tucking his hands behind his back. "You are ninja warriors of the Hamato clan, shinobi of great skill. You will always find yourself face to face with the concept of death," he said, establishing eye contact to make certain that his students were listening. "If you concentrate on this, you will only find yourself hesitating to take action due to fear. In turn, this will prove to lower your effectiveness in battle, much like a self-fulfilling prophecy. Face this unfortunate danger with dignity, my sons, instead of turning against each other."

And, despite the horror thrumming through their veins, his sons seemed to settle a bit. They'd already talked about this at length, their early lessons on death burnt into their memories. And yet none of the Hamato household slept very well that night, save perhaps for Mikey himself.

—

"Mikey, up and at 'em!" Raph pounded on his door the next morning.

Mikey, suddenly and quite unexpectedly awake, swung over the side of his bed and pointed a threatening nunchuck at the door. He blearily opened his eyes and then gave a jaw-cracking yawn. He studied his alarm clock.

"Rise and shine," he mumbled to himself. He exited his room while stretching his arms over his head, making a beeline for the bathroom and then immediately tackling he kitchen. Master Splinter would start their morning training in twenty minutes — whether they'd eaten or not.

Donnie was in the far corner, tapping away at his laptop with glazed eyes. Cereal bowl already drained and leaning backwards on two chair legs, Raph was already at the kitchen table again. Mikey opened the cereal cabinet, to find to his dismay that the Cookie Crisp was missing.

"Raph, do you know where the last of my cereal has gone to?" he wondered, genuinely puzzled.

"Find it yourself," Raph grumped around the spoon that hung out of his mouth as he studied the back of the Fruit Loops box. Well. No help there.

Mikey wasn't suicidal enough to try to raid Raph's Fruit Loops — not when his brother was in the room, at least. That left frozen waffles or making scrambled eggs. And making scrambled eggs would mean making Raph move from his precarious spot right next to the stove.

. . . Waffles it was!

He opened the freezer and then stared at Ice Cream Kitty, who was sitting on the Cookie Crisp cereal box. "Geez, you could have just asked," he reminded his pet cat. "We can be cereal buddies!"

"Ugh," Raph complained at Mikey's boisterousness even as Leo walked into the kitchen. As Mikey popped his waffles into the toaster, Leo came from the side to fill the cup in his hand with the contents of the coffeemaker.

"What's Donnie up to?" Mikey wondered as he waited for the pop of his chocolate chip waffles.

"Donnie's been tryin' to recover some data from our friends from last night," Raph explained, peering over at the corner. "Said he might've found somethin' important at 'bout three or so, but he hasn't said much since then."

"Today? At three in the _morning_?" Mikey wondered.

"Eh," Raph shrugged.

Leo sipped his coffee with a look of relief on his face. Leo, who far preferred tea and only brought coffee for stakeouts. And never let it be said that Mikey was stupid, now. Upon inspection, Raph's eyes had the tell-tale dark smudges of a long night.

Mikey had a lightbulb moment.

"Have _all of you_ been up all night?" Mikey said, confused. He looked back and forth between his brothers. "Dudes. What am I missing?"

"How can you almost die and just not care?" Leo wondered, looking honestly awed as he blew at his coffee.

"Leo. I'm a ninja. You know all those important battles? Yeah, it's kind of what we _do_ ," Mikey said slowly, as if explaining it to a small child. It's not as if Leo hadn't had his own close calls.

"Sassy," Raph muttered.

Leo merely shook his head and stared down into his mug. He was probably trying to avoid an argument. Or, Mikey mused, after pulling an all nighter maybe he was starting to see meaningful messages in the steam.

Too much drama. Mikey caught his waffles as they popped out of the toaster and withdrew into the living room as he waited for Master Splinter to open the dojo.

—

"I am pleased to see that your bright spirit has remain unharmed by your stroke with danger," Master Splinter murmured softly as he rested a hand on Mikey's shell.

"Uh, thank you?" Mikey answered.

Louder, Master Splinter called, "Training is over for now. Leonardo, if you would remain?"

The other three turtles could hear the dismissal in his words and trailed out of the dojo. Wiping sweat from his forehead, Raph stomped toward the bathroom. Donnie frowned in curiosity as he pushed the screen doors shut behind himself.

Leo turned to his father and waited patiently as he sat down. Rushing never really helped with these types of conversations.

"I have noticed that none of you have slept last night," Master Splinter started. "I admit that I know this, in small part, because I was also up all night and overheard the shuffling in the living room."

"Yes. Well, all except Mikey," Leo said, but he didn't want to say anything more until he had to. "He slept like a baby."

Splinter's whiskers twitched. "Yes, well," he said, less eloquent than usual. "I thought that we should talk about it."

"Why not Raph or Donnie?" Leo wondered.

"They will come on their own in due time," Spinter answered, looking unimpressed at the clumsy distraction. "As the leader, I did not have the luxury of waiting for you to be ready."

"Oh," Leo said.

There was silence for a long moment. Master Splinter merely kept still and waited attentively as Leo stared down at the floor. Despite his self discipline, it wasn't long before Leo cracked. He was on his feet, prowling back and forth restlessly.

"They held a _blade_ to his throat," Leo said. "Our little brother. They _dared_ — ! And we —" Leo froze, looking at his hands. "We went to a dark place for a moment, sensei. Even Donnie was overcome with the urge to destroy the bots, even after they were shut down. There wasn't any need to hide the bots from the public because they didn't even look like bots anymore."

"You are glad, then, that you faced a computerized enemy yesterday," Splinter guessed.

Leo's throat went dry. "Yeah," he said. "It wasn't a good night for anybody. If we had fought against human Foot soldiers, it could have been a slaughter."

"And yet you've all faced the battlefield and its dangers before," Master Splinter led.

"That was before they singled Mikey out," Leo answered, something dangerous shining in his eyes. "All of us or none of us. The Shredder doesn't get to choose," he resolved.

—

The tension that had kept the family on their toes had just about faded when Donnie came charging in from the lab, computer printouts tucked under his armpits as he gripped his laptop in both hands.

"Guys!" Donnie grinned, looking a bit manic. "Look what I found!"

Raph came up from behind Donnie to grab one of the printouts. He peered at one roll of meaningless numbers and letters and then lifted his eye ridge. "You realize I have no idea what any of this stuff means, right?"

"Oh, that's just a hard copy of my backup protocols. Just in case messing with this takes my system down."

Even sarcasm and a potential threat to his pet computers seemed unable to burst Donnie's good mood. He dropped the laptop on the table and started to tap away as he explained.

"The Foot Bots are designed to be secure automatons, so they run a wiping program when they lose consciousness, if you will. The updated version must have introduced an error into that program, because certain branches of their structure remained intact!"

"So what can we do with that?" Leo wondered. "If the bots keep track of each other now, could we use one bot to get the positions of the others once we peek inside this one's head?"

". . . Um, no," Donnie admitted with an apologetic smile. "I already checked before I took it — they had a separate unit in their headpiece for sending their location somewhere (probably Shredder's labs), but it was a one way connection, bot outwards. We can't access it without the decryption. Only the Shredder knows where his bots are."

"It was a nice thought," Mikey consoled Leo.

"But I do have some good news!" Donnie added. "I had to reverse compile the stuff in the drive with that Kraang computer we stole to look at the source code and the unencrypted documents. As soon as that finished, I started to check it for hidden viruses so I don't destroy our computer system. And . . . then . . ."

Donnie's brothers were staring at him with blank, uncomprehending gazes.

". . . We're still lost, bro," Mikey offered on behalf of the others. "What does that have to do with us?"

Donnie patiently began to explain, visibly repressing the urge to roll his eyes. "In a minute, I might able to access the Foot Bots' standing orders, their maps, maybe even some juicy passwords!"

"Hey, I suppose that does sound pretty neat," Raph admitted, stepping closer in interest.

"Wizard tech skills, dude!" Mikey offered with a grin.

One didn't need to be a genius like Donnie to know that a turtle could do a lot of mighty fine work with a few key passwords.

"And I called you down because I was almost finished checking it over — this could be just what we needed to take the Shredder down for good!" Donnie summarized.

And, lo and behold, a moment later Donnie called out, "Finished!"

"What have we got?" Leo wondered, arms crossed.

"Let me feed it a list of keywords," Donnie muttered, opening a document and loading it in. Another grin took over his face as he scrolled down. "Over a thousand relevant hits. Nice."

He quickly focused on the parts with the thickest concentration of keywords. "Most of this looks routine," he admitted. "Observations of our fighting styles, designations as enemies, that sort of thing. A map of sightings. And — what's this?"

Donnie brought it up in a separate window. "The timestamp says that these orders are only a few days old," he muttered. "Orders to restrain Mikey and . . . and _me_."

"Oh shell no," Raph bit out, furious.

"Why? The Shredder's been trying to kill the Hamato clan for years. Why change his mind now?" Leo wondered. "I can't help but think that he has an evil scheme in the wings."

"The Shredder always has an evil scheme ready to go," Mikey said. "Me and Donnie will just have to watch out for each other's backs and be extra careful. Right, Donnie?" he said, giving a comforting smile.

"Yeah." Donnie swallowed. He gave a thankful smile. "Yeah, Mikey. We're gonna make sure that the Shredder can't use us against Leo or Raph."

"Until we figure out what his full plan is, we go silent," Leo said. "Me and Raph will keep to the shadows above ground. I want you guys safe in the sewers until we figure things out."

"Oh, c'mon, we can help you more aboveground!" Mikey argued. "We're weakening ourselves by splitting up!"

"Not for long," Leo compromised. "Two weeks. If Raph and I don't find anything out before then, we'll start full patrols again. Raph?"

"Sounds good," Raph growled, anticipating some Foot-whoopings when they "figured things out."

—

"You're going to look here," Leo said to Raph. "I'll keep watch in the next building over while you see what you can find."

Mikey memorized the locations, but otherwise he tried to ignore Raph and Leo where they were spreading maps on the kitchen table. He wanted to know where he could find them in case they needed backup, but he didn't want to be reminded of his uselessness.

It seemed stupid, at first, to split their concentration. Then again — Leo and Raph could be surprisingly stealthy when the mood suited them. And here Donnie was trying to break further into the Foot's systems with what he'd leaned from the bots. Mikey was the only person without something to keep him busy.

Well. He _had_ resolved to train more. Plus, he could probably catch up on a few seasons of tv until his brain rotted.

—

"Ugh, no way," Mikey told himself, lounging in a pile of movies and comics. "There's absolutely nothing to do in the lair!"

He lifted a hand to peer at an old Kung-Fu movie, but then tossed it behind him. "I've seen everything a zillion times!"

"You could always join me in watching my soaps," Master Splinter offered from the living room where Mary-Jane was breaking up with Jason.

"No, thank you," Mikey called out with barely-contained disdain. "Never will I fall to such depths of boredom as to watch soap operas. I think I'll go explore the sewers."

"Don't forget to stay below ground," Master Splinter warned. "I will know if you head off to find your brothers, and you won't like it."

"I know, sensei, geesh!" Mikey replied, throwing his hands up. "I'll be back . . . soonish. Probably." It all depended on how long it took him to chill out and calm down this time.

"Give your brothers a call if you'll be out late," Splinter suggested as he returned to the television.

—

"This is for Leo being so worried," Mikey said, kicking a soda can as he walked through the sewers. It clanged against the cement floor and came to a stop a few feet in front of him.

"And this is for Raph being so hypocritical about people throwing themselves blindly into danger," Mikey continued, giving the can another good punt.

"And this," he said as he caught up again, "is for the Kraang not running back to Dimension X where they belong and taking the Foot Bots with them!"

This time, the can sailed high into the air before dropping into the sewage in the center of the tunnel with a sickly slurp.

Mikey stared at it as it floated down the river of foul smelling garbage. His unamused stare bore witness as it drowned underneath the surface, never to be seen again.

"And good riddance," he said, puffing up his cheeks.

He pulled out his phone and checked his messages. Leo and Raph said that they had already left. He checked the GPS tracker that Donnie had installed after that one close call with Stockman. His brothers were already on the surface, moving steadily toward the southeast from the lair.

"Who needs 'em?" Mikey tried to persuade himself. "I can have just as much fun by myself. Yeah, this is totally fun, checking out the sewers. I can map 'em all out, maybe find some secret bases or something. I can make a Mikey Fort!" His efforts actually paid off, as the idea of a secret — just for him — cheered him up enough to make him forget that he was off of patrols.

With that, he strolled off down the sewer tunnel with a skip in his step and a guileless grin on his mouth as he hummed a tune underneath his breath.

—

"Hey, do you think I was right to ground Mikey and Donnie?" Leo questioned on their way home, mouth twisted into an uncertain frown. "Without them there, it just . . . wasn't the same. You know?"

"I guess so," Raph said noncommittally, but closer inspection showed a tightness around his eyes that might have been agreement.

"Donnie's happy to have time to crack into the Shredder's servers, but Mikey can be really sensitive to these things," Leo said. "He might be moody for a few days."

—

"Hey, Donny! Dude!" Mikey said with a blatantly overpowered grin when he stuck his head into the lab. He zoomed over toward his brother, hands pressed together pleadingly. "I was wondering if you could help me out with something."

"I thought he was supposed to be moody for a few days," Raph said from where he was getting some time with the punching dummy. "But I think he skipped right past that phase."

"Oh dear physics," Donny said with a hopeless expression. "What do you want, Mikey?"

"Could you, um, show me how the GPS app works?" Mikey said. "I was gonna map out the distant sewers. You know, I might as well make sure I'm doing something useful if I'm gonna be stuck underground." His face drooped for a moment at that, but then perked back up. "Please! C'mon! You know I'll be at this for hours! It'd be easier just to show me right now!"

"Mapping the sewers, huh?" Donny repeated, eyes narrowed as he cupped his chin in his hand thoughtfully.

"Except, the GPS app doesn't save what I'm going to do to your guys' phones, right?" Mikey added. "I don't want to clutter it up."

"You're trying to find a secret base since you can't go above ground," Donny guessed flatly.

"Um. No?" Mikey replied, upping the wattage on his smile.

Donny sighed, drawing a hand down his face. "Come on," he said, jerking his thumb toward the lab. "Might as well."

"Thanks, dude! You're the best! The best there ever was!" Mikey said, skipping behind him.

"Don't quote Pocket Monsters at me," Donny said. "It's bad enough that you infected me with Super Mecha Robot Force Five. I'm not falling into another rabbit hole."

"It's a classic!" Mikey protested.

"No," came the unyielding answer as Donny sat down at his computer.

"Fine. If you show me how to use your app," Mikey bargained.

"Deal. Anything. Just leave me to my work," Donny wailed, hands over his head.

Mikey grinned slyly. "Anything?" he prodded.

"Well, maybe not anything. But I'll show you the app's more advanced features like I said I would," Donny returned to the original deal. "Don't push it."

"Sure!"

—

"So, I just press this button, and then that button, and then — voila! Mikey the explorer!"

The turtle in question paused in his monologue to strike a handsome pose.

"Boom!" he addressed the phone, twiddling his fingers at it. "And you thought that you could defy me," he said, threatening the device from an inch away from his face. "But Mikey prevails as always!"

The little green dot on the map was very emotionally fulfilling.

"So now I just gotta go this-a-way and look for my new secret hideout!"

He marched off down the tunnel, tucking his phone back into his pocket.

—

" _Mikey_!" Raph winced, plugging his nose. He turned away from the television, where one man in an eye-searing costume suplexxed another man with a disaster of facial hair. The crowd oohed. "Ugh, the smell!"

"We live in a sewer, Raphie. You aren't used to the smell yet?" Mikey replied carelessly, leaving behind a nearly visible trail of death perfume behind him as he bounded over to the couch.

"Mikey. There's sewers, and then there's Sewers. Capiche? Now go takes a shower or something!"

"Now, why would I do that when you keep making that hilarious face?"

"Please. Just. Just leave. I'm trying to watch a wrestling match."

"What'll you give me?" Mikey wondered.

"Anything," Raph replied, twisting his neck to see past Mikey's head as he blocked the view.

"Anything?" Mikey wondered.

"Anything except helping you get to the surface."

"Aw," Mikey whined. It had been worth a try. He ducked his nose to his armpit and sniffed, wondering what the big deal was. So he'd waded through a few overfilled tunnels. So what?

Leo popped his head out of the dojo, wiping some sweat from his forehead as he wrinkled his nose. "Did I just hear Mikey come back?" he wondered.

"Yeah," Raph said, sightlessly jerking a thumb toward his room. "He went that-a-way."

"And what is that smell?" Leo asked, nostrils twitching as the smell wafted over and registered.

"Yeah," Raph repeated. "It went that-a-way."

"That smell is Mikey?"

"Yeah —"

"I got it already!" Leo snapped, throwing up his arms and returning to the dojo to light a scented candle. Or five.

"Woo!" Raph shouted at the television. "Break his back!"

"I swear," Donny muttered, returning to his work before the others could notice him.

—

"So, is anyone home?" Mikey called out, cupping his hands around his mouth. "Hello!"

As expected, there was no answer.

Mikey rubbed his hands together in glee. "Losers weepers, finders keepers," he chortled, jumping around the room.

It wasn't very large. It had a few plastic curtains strewn about, and the dust on the floor was nearly an inch thick. If not for the booby trapped door, Mikey would have thought it just another maitanance checkpoint. But there had been a booby trapped door, and Mikey was determined to find out what was worth booby trapping it for.

He peered behind the curtains and studied the empty shelves, but nothing revealed itself to his eyes. Eventually, it occurred to him that maybe whatever had been protected was long gone. No, his stubborn nature reared its head. There had to be something!

Mikey began to poke and prod everything, looking for a secret entrance. Nothing.

As a last ditch effort, he began to carve the edges of the bricks with a throwing star, hoping that one of them was a secret compartment. This too seemed destined for disappointment, but then Mikey felt a shifting.

He stopped and leveraged his shuriken up and down, moving the brick forward inch by inch. He carefully removed it and suspiciously poked at the hole it had left behind. If the door was a trap, why not this? Maybe when he stuck his hand in he'd be stuck with a poisoned needle!

Mikey lowered his hand to his belt and withdrew his phone, this close to dialing his brothers for help. Then he paused and launched the GPS app. They were miles away, already on patrol and Donnie was on day four of working on the Foot's systems and he was starting to get manic.

He stuck his nunchuck handle inside, listening carefully for any poison needle sounds.

Hearing nothing, he decided to stick his hand inside as quickly as he could.

He brushed his finger against something that definitely wasn't brick.

He spooked, withdrawing his hand again.

He spent the next minute shaking in a corner, studying his arm for any tell tale scratches.

"Maybe I should just come back, um, tommorow?" Mikey suggested.

But this was his adventure. This was his no-brothers-allowed new secret base. And this was a super secret hidden compartment. He had to look inside.

He caught his hand around the cold smoothness of what he could feel and drew it out of the hole in the wall. It was . . . a sword. A Japanese style sword. He studied the sheath for a moment, confused.

Who leaves a sword in the sewers hidden behind a brick? Was this another trick of the Shredder's? Really — how could it be possible for Mikey to find a sword that he just happened to have been taught how to use by Splinter? Sure Splinter had taught them the basics of many Western weapons, but they were far better with Eastern ones.

Mikey studied it for trackers, even lifting it up to his nostrils to smell out poison. Nothing. It was just a normal wakizashi.

He tucked it into his belt and headed home. It was getting late anyway.

—

If Mikey hadn't breathed ninjutsu since before he could remember, he wouldn't have even realized anything. As it was, he could feel a strange concentration focused on him, one that didn't belong to his family.

He kept his breathing natural, with all the snores and snuffles that he knew his unconscious rest looked like. The comic he'd fallen asleep reading was still on his chest. His nunchucks were on his bedside table, a moment away. There were a few throwing stars if he needed them hidden away underneath his pads.

He tried to pinpoint the intruder, though doing so without the aid of sight was a bit difficult. In fact . . . He couldn't hear anything either. There wasn't even the faint whistle of lung inflating or the hint of a heartbeat thump. He strained instead for the sound of servos. Nothing.

One hand gathering both of his nunchucks along the way, he flung himself over the side of the bed to gain cover. The concentration sharpened, but nothing else happened. Mikey tilted his head back to get a look.

It was a young woman, Japanese in heritage like Karai. But where Karai flaunted her power like a weapon, tattoos around her eyes and a predator's gait, this woman was much more normal. She was dressed in a green kimono, long hair pinned back into a bun.

She frowned her young features. "What are you?" she asked.

* * *

 **Next** : The Offer on August 12th


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